He's at Hogwarts
by The Unforgivable
Summary: A short vignette of Sirius Black's experience in Azkaban - COMPLETE


He's at Hogwarts by The Unforgivable

NOTE: Those of you who have read _Slytherin Girl_ are probably having heart palpitations by now - why is _she_ of all people writing about a _Marauder_? Well, I don't really hate all the Marauders - just Potter, who was a stuck-up prat, and Pettigrew, who was a parasite. (The alliteration was unintentional - I swear.) I tried to hate Black and Lupin, but I couldn't do it; they're too much fun. This story is actually based partly on a dream I had last night. Of course, my dreams are weird, so I normaled it up some, and wrote it instead of an essay. School is boring anyway.

DISCLAIMER: No one in this story belongs to me. Not even any OC's in this one. They're all J. K. Rowling's wonderful (or less-than-wonderful in the case of that stupid git Cornelius Fudge) creations.

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Lily sat in front of the fire, its light playing over her features, making them dance. She looked so morose and unhappy. "Contemplation the mysteries of the universe?" I asked, shoving her over, and squeezing into the chair with her.

She smiled half-heartedly. "Just wondering if I made the right decision." I didn't have to ask what decision she was referring to. Last night she had announced to everyone in the common room that she and James Potter were engaged.

"You did," I told her. "There's no one in the world who will take better care of you than James."

"I know," she murmured." I just get this awful feeling sometimes. And I think I'm not doing the right thing. Maybe it's a sign?" Her gloom was infectious.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you should call the whole bloody thing off and spend the rest of your life regretting it. Divination is_ your best subject, you know."_

A corner of Lily's mouth twisted up. "Yeah, I'm pretty sorry at it, aren't I?"

I must have said something witty then, and my mood must have lifted, because that part of my memory is gone. The Dementors have it. All I have now is my depression. A few sad memories. And the knowledge of my innocence.

Not exactly comforting knowledge, I know. But then, if it were, I wouldn't have it.

I wish Lily and James hadn't been so careful. If they hadn't, they would have made me their secret keeper, and would still be alive. And I would be free. Now almost all of my best friends from Hogwarts are dead - Lily and James, killed by a curse from the Dark Lord, betrayed by a friend; Peter, who killed himself in order to avoid capture and place suspicion on me. Remus was still alive, last I heard, but he thinks I'm the one who betrayed Lily and James, so he's worse than dead to me.

But worse than the deaths of my friends is the life of my enemy. That slimy bastard, Severus Snape. He must still be alive out there, somewhere. If he were in here, I would know. I know the sounds of the screams of every Death Eater in this place, but the one I would most love to hear, I do not. He must be alive. If he were dead, I would know. I would feel it. A grim satisfaction that would be too bitter for even the Dementors to take away.

I hope he's in hell. I hope he has to take sleeping potion every night. I hope he has nightmares. I hope he gets thrown in here one day. I hope. . .

The door is opening. Someone is in my cell. Not a Dementor. I can feel that. It is someone wearing a bowler hat and carrying a newspaper under his arm. "Mr. Black?" I nod. How stupid must someone be to open the door to an Azkaban cell if he doesn't know who is inside?

"My name is Cornelius Fudge. I'm the Minister of Magic." He is hanging back, as if afraid of me. Well, of course, I'm a murderer. Is he here to free me? He could be my ticket out of here.

He shifts the paper under his arm, and I notice the picture. Perched on the shoulder of a freckle-faced boy is a rat. A very familiar rat. I saw Peter in his rat form enough to recognise him, even after twelve years.

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They were dead. I was numb inside when I saw Peter. He ran up the street towards me, yelling, "Lily and James, Sirius. How could you?"

How could he know already? Dumbledore had come to me immediately because he thought I was their secret keeper. The only way Peter could know. . .was if he had been their betrayer. Anger flowed through my veins like liquid fire. I went for my wand. Who cared if I was standing on a street full of muggles? I would have killed one of my best friends. I would have deserved Azkaban. But he got to his wand first.

I heard him shout a curse before the roar of an explosion rocked the street. A laugh bubbled up in my throat. He had done it for me. He was gone, and I had nothing to do with it. I knew I was hysterical, but I couldn't stop laughing, even when they led me away. I didn't know they were taking me to Azkaban. I found out soon enough.

I can't remember how it felt to laugh. Not here, with the Dementors so nearby. I can't remember my joy that Peter was dead. I only know my disappointment that I didn't get to kill him myself, and now, my anger that he isn't dead. Unless I'm mistaken. I must make sure I'm not mistaken.

Fudge finishes talking and I realize I didn't hear a word he said. I have to see that picture. "Do you mind if I borrow that paper? I. . .miss doing the crossword puzzle." He nods and hands it warily to me. I think he's worried because I'm still coherent. I don't know what he expected, but obviously, I'm not it.

After he leaves, I open the paper and examine the picture. It is Peter. He's still alive. I only have one choice. I have to kill him. I read the article. He's at Hogwarts.

Finis


End file.
